


you don't raise heroes, you raise sons.

by cyanoscarlet



Category: Final Fantasy VIII
Genre: A father's love, Anxious Laguna, F/M, Family talk, Father-Son talk, Gen, Mentions of Raine, Parents as Humans, Theme: Distance, thesuccessorchallenge, video call
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:20:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25862734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyanoscarlet/pseuds/cyanoscarlet
Summary: A long-distance call certainly isn’t the way Laguna had wanted to bond with his son after more than two years of no contact whatsoever. He certainly gets way,waymore than he had expected, though, and he is more than happy and relieved after it all.(Entry forThe Successor Challenge2020.)
Relationships: Laguna Loire & Kiros Seagill, Laguna Loire/Raine Loire, Squall Leonhart & Laguna Loire
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	you don't raise heroes, you raise sons.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SapientesGladio (Irredivivous)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Irredivivous/gifts).



> Three fics in twenty-four hours. Who would have thought? _(cowers in I-swear-to-God-I-did-my-IRL-work-today-despite-appearances)_
> 
> Another submission for [The Successor Challenge](https://thesuccessorchallenge.tumblr.com) 2020\. The theme I chose for this fic is "Distance", also this year's proper theme.
> 
> Also dedicated to the amazing Alexis (GladioWrites/SapientesGladio)! Thank you so much for all the FF8 talks and the support and the love! I hope this makes you smile.
> 
> Now, on to the wholesome! :)

A long-distance call certainly isn’t the way Laguna had wanted to bond with his son after more than two years of no contact whatsoever. 

He couldn’t blame the boy for it, too; while they had acknowledged their actual blood relationship after the battle with Ultimecia (at Ellone’s insistence, no less), Squall had seemed to view the connection as more of a “nuisance” than anything, if his constant giving of the cold shoulder is of any indication. After all, they had been nothing more than strangers to each other for seventeen whole years before that.

That fact is certainly high up on Laguna’s list of regrets in life, along with the one where he had let Ellone get hurt, and the one where he had not been by Raine’s side when she… better not go there.  _ Not now. _

He waits quietly as his computer boots up, wondering how Squall is feeling right now as he sits before his own terminal at Garden. Little worries flit through his mind— is there enough reception where they are now, are they flying somewhere off the grid, are they in enemy territory,  _ will he be there _ — 

The comm software suddenly flickers to life and patches through, and Squall appears on his screen, peering through his entire being with those deep blue eyes he had grown to love and cherish all those years ago.

_ Oh, Raine _ , are his first thoughts as tears threaten to spill from his own eyes.  _ He has your eyes, calm and deep as the Great Ocean. Our son… _

“H-Hello there.” Squall is the first between the two of them to speak, his words tentative on his tongue as he, too, mentally grasps for the right words to say. Laguna doesn’t resist a chuckle at this; if anything, his SeeD training is probably kicking in by now, harshly reminding him that he is speaking with the President of Esthar and must thus conduct himself with the utmost respect and professionalism befitting the Commander of Garden.

_ This certainly won’t do _ , he thinks with a smile, then proceeds to break the ice between them— something he is proud of being good at. “Hi there, Squall! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Squall, too, manages a hesitant smile at this.  _ He isn’t all that used to expressing himself all this time, _ Edea had mentioned before in casual observation, the last time they had spoken. For all of their world’s advancements in technology, it certainly doesn’t translate one’s emotions well through a lagging video and choppy audio output, but Laguna, ever the overly-empathic one, gets it very,  _ very _ well.

How he wishes his arms could pass through the screen right now and give his only son the best and tightest hug he could ever give, to make up for all those years he was absent from the boy’s troubled life, but this— a short conversation through computer screen and terminal— would have to do. It would have to do for now.

“It has, Sir,” Squall’s voice comes through once more, slightly distorted by a fluctuating connection feedback before becoming crisp once more. “I’m also glad to see you’ve been well.”

“Yup! It’s been two years since we’ve last spoken, hasn’t it?” There it is again, that nagging feeling. Laguna brushes it off with another grin. “How goes the commanding of Garden, my boy?”

Squall frowns a bit from the screen, leaning a bit closer— probably more technical glitches on his end. Their terminals  _ are  _ quite outdated already, after all, if the report he had received from SeeD Trepe was of any indication. Laguna briefly considers the fond memory; Quistis had always been the most eager to have them reconnect, despite outward appearances. He had heard about her adoption process not working out; perhaps, this might have factored in with her sentiments, too, if anything.

He makes no mention of this to Squall, of course. He would probably opt out of the call in an instant due to sheer embarrassment, and that certainly  _ won’t  _ do at all.

“Things are going well over here, all things considered,” Squall finally replies, wearing a subtle expression of relief as the glitches seem to have sorted themselves out. “We’ve had a stream of assignments since then, none too dangerous to handle so far. Thank you very much for lending us the services of the White SeeD during the protests at the Galbadian colonies. Their help in making sure everyone was safe is very much appreciated.”

“Oh, that! I did nothing at all,” Laguna clarifies with a wave of his hand. “Now that their role as Ellone’s protectors has come to an end, they have decided of their own accord to help the regular SeeD organization in whatever capacity they could, for so long as they are allowed to remain independent.” Has Squall always been this verbose? Sheesh, even his own  _ speech _ is being affected, for Hyne’s sake!

_ You’re president now, _ Kiros would remind him every so often with a deadpan voice.  _ Act the part. _

And Laguna would smirk back at this, too, every so often.  _ Duly noted. _

“We are indebted to them for it, Sir,” Squall insists with that same, level, professional tone of his. It might have sounded mechanical to others’ ears, but Laguna hears the undercurrents of earnest gratitude in his tone, and his heart  _ soars _ at the very thought.  _ He’s been opening up more and more now, Sir Laguna _ , Selphie had sent an email to him once; she had made it her personal mission to get Squall to smile and laugh more often. Rinoa had always been the most successful of them all, though, she reported in long paragraphs that read of both beaming pride and subdued wistfulness. Is there something he doesn’t know yet, perhaps?

Then again, though, it is way too early to inquire about his son’s love life now, as it were. Same reason. Yeah. So he holds off that thought for now, too.

“Yup,” Laguna affirms back with a nod, “good to know, then!” He leans forward, too, in a bid of showing enthusiasm and how much he cares for everything, every  _ word _ right now. “Have you been eating well? Three times a day?”

Squall snorts at the rather forward question, looking away for a while to suppress the chuckles of disbelief threatening to rise from his chest.  _ Are you absolutely sure he wasn’t like this before, _ he wants to ask Selphie in his next email to her,  _ because he seems to still remain a boy underneath all along! _ Laguna makes no show of hiding his own grin from the video camera at the awkward sight; he  _ is  _ enjoying this way too much.

More than anything, he is happy and he is  _ proud  _ to have such a wonderful son.  _ Beautiful and kind and amazing, just like you, my Raine. _

“W-What is it, Sir?” Squall is composed once more, save for the fidgety hands he thinks he has hidden well away from view of the terminal’s camera but Laguna totally sees anyway. A child can never hide anything from their parent, after all. He hasn’t noticed that he had been freely chuckling in full view in his son’s place, but it’s a facet of himself he doesn’t mind hiding at all; they are past the point of keeping secrets from each other at this point, having shared the same mind several times in the past due to Ellone’s actions, after all.

“N-Nothing, my boy,” Laguna calms himself down, wiping away the small tear of laughter that had almost fallen from his eye. Squall wears a flabbergasted expression at this, his eyes narrowed in disbelief in the exact same way Raine’s had whenever he brought up something silly, like the fool he would play himself up to be sometimes.

_ I really am a fool, aren’t I _ , comes the rueful thought, like all others that cross the mind of a forty-something year old geezer who is sometimes too sentimental for his own good. Then again, though, self-deprecation never did him any good at all.

“With all due respect, Sir, self-deprecation doesn’t do you any good,” Squall offers respectfully, as if he had just read Laguna’s inner thoughts. The non-sequitur to the conversation ironically fits in quite well with the rest of the words they had just exchanged, and those deep blue eyes, calm as the great ocean, stare through him once more, right into his very soul.

_ Oh, Raine, if you could only see him now. You must have been so happy, so proud. _

Laguna swallows back the choke in his voice with an audible gulp and manages a self-assured smile, staring right into the built-in camera above the monitor instead of into Squall’s eyes. “I know that. No need to worry about your old man, Squall! I, Laguna Loire, will be fine!”

And he means that, too— he is sure of that now.

Now that he knows his son is doing more than fine.

He is more than happy for it.

“That… is good to know, Sir.” Squall hesitates once more, choosing his words carefully as his eyes dart away from the camera. A few minutes of companionable silence pass between them, until a beeping alarm from both ends of the comm software jolts them back from the moment, warning them of the five minutes they have left to wrap up their conversation.

“Well, I guess this is it, huh,” Laguna says with a twinge of regret. Throughout the call, there is one thing he has always wanted to hear, but he fears bringing it up, fears being too  _ forward _ , lest it ends up driving a real wedge between the tentative understanding he and Squall share now. He mustn’t— it’s not yet time.  _ Not now. _

“We can always schedule another call like this,” Squall blurts out, he himself taken aback by what he had just said. He doesn’t take his words back, though, instead offering a thin smile— probably the best he can manage at this point, given his current state— and it makes Laguna’s insides melt in such pride and such happiness, he could ask for nothing more.

“Sure, I’m free to talk anytime,” Laguna matches Squall’s unexpected enthusiasm with his own, quickly catching himself before he could say anything else unnecessary. “Is next week, same time, okay with you?”

Squall nods at once. “Yes, Sir. That would be fine.”

“It’s a date, then!” He gives two thumbs-ups, for added measure, in case the audio cuts off on his or Squall’s end again. Technical glitches are a whole other ballpark of annoying for these kinds of calls, and he would rather look silly making himself clear rather than let himself be misunderstood in favor of keeping up appearances.

Another beep sounds— two minutes left.

Squall waves back hesitantly at this junction, having taken cues from Laguna’s earlier action. Him and hand gestures fit awkwardly like, well, chocolate and vegetables, or something. The mere idea of the weird food combination grosses him out, so he settles for the “or something” instead. He waves back, too, resisting the temptation to give flying kisses through the screen. “See you next week, Squall!”

The next words from Squall’s mouth blow him out of the water: “Yes. See you next week—”

_ … Wait. _

There was an audio cut, too, just now, but the shape of Squall’s lips as they formed the words he had just spoken are unmistakably  _ unmistakable _ .  _ Did he just… _

Whatever Laguna had wanted to say in parting die on his throat, and he only continues waving weakly, his mind reeling at what had just transpired, even as the comm software automatically closes and the computer, too, shuts down, all on its own.

He is still waving when someone gently taps on his shoulder some time later. The cool air from outside gently hits his face, the dried tracks of tears on his cheeks like a balm to his soul. Laguna slowly rises from his seated stupor and turns to face Kiros, who immediately envelops him in a familiar, brotherly embrace as he full-on bawls into the other’s thick robes.

“H-He called me ‘Dad’,” he cries happily to his friend. “I didn’t ask him to, but he—”

Kiros gently runs a rough hand through Laguna’s back, soothing the hiccups that threaten to form in his chest. “Of course he would. He’s your son. Yours and Raine’s.”

Laguna sniffles harder at the notion, his hold on Kiros tightening as he takes it all in, letting his hands and his heart hold so much overflowing relief and pride and joy he could not contain it at all. And Kiros just stands with him, lets him have his quiet moment, not as a man or a President, but as a father. 

At that moment, Laguna’s tears wash away all of his insecurities and regrets, replacing them with a boundless feeling of love for someone wonderful and beautiful and kind and amazing, he is more than happy to call his very own. It is everything he could ever ask for, and so,  _ so _ much more.

_“You don't raise heroes, you raise sons. And if you treat them like sons, they'll turn out to be heroes, even if it's just in your own eyes.”_

_ — Walter M. Schirra, Sr. _

**Author's Note:**

> I swear to God I teared up A LOT writing this. I'm not as close with my parents as I want, just enough to be normal, I guess. We do get into a lot of disagreements over things, but I love them so much, I'd do anything for them. Working as a doctor during these times, my greatest fear is bringing the sickness to our home, since I don't have a dorm to stay in for quarantine. In every hospital shift, I just protect myself with as many layers and proper handwashing times as I can, and pray hard I don't ever catch it. I share this fear with every medical personnel on active duty in the frontlines of this pandemic, and we can all only pray for this to finally be over.
> 
> Sorry for the sentimental. I hope you all enjoyed reading this! See you again if I do end up writing another piece. :)
> 
> .
> 
> [writing blog](http://fifteenleads.tumblr.com) | [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/cyanoscarlet)


End file.
